Runaway
by Emily Post
Summary: In the aftermath of the war, two people struggle to find acceptance in a world they hardly recognize. To survive they will have to confront their darkest fears and embrace their deepest desires as they embark on a round the world adventure.


A/N: Shockingly, I don't own Harry Potter… I know, I know. Oh well.

This is my first fic and I would be thrilled by any feedback you can offer to make this a better story and me a better writer!

* * *

Runaway

Prologue

She stared at her reflection with a critical eye. Her brown hair was still a wild tangle, but, she thought, it had been arranged in an artful up-do that didn't fight against its nature. A long gold ribbon coiled in and around the coiffure to hold it in place, and she was pleased with the overall look. Her dress robes were a muted lilac; fashionable but hardly extraordinary. Serviceable. She wore little makeup, as was her custom, but she looked polished. And it was how she felt. She had been rehearsing her lines for this evening so often that they almost felt natural. Saying goodbye was never easy, especially considering that she might never see any of these people again. It was even more difficult because no one would realize that she was leaving them.

Hermione Granger drew in a deep breath and reached for her wand. It was time to say goodbye to the Wizarding World.

* * *

The ball was predictably awkward. Only last week the last of the War Trials had been concluded, and the last four months had been nothing but trials, funerals, riots, and political debates that threatened to tear apart the fragile Ministry.

But this had been the Minister of Magic's brainchild – a ball to commemorate the dead, to celebrate the living, and to try and mend the rifts that still existed in the Wizarding Community. Anyone who could wrangle an invitation was in attendance – from the lowliest Muggleborns to the most reviled Pure-bloods. It wasn't about the past, the Minister kept insisting as he circulated amongst the tables and guests, it was a dedication to the future.

Draco Malfoy, propped against a distant wall and surveying the mess with a jaundiced eye, couldn't help but feel disgust at the proceedings. Of course he had been invited to the event. Only just released from Azkaban yesterday morning, he was still hated by nearly everyone in attendance, but his name was too important, his money too good, his connections too dangerous, for the Minister to risk alienating him. Draco tossed back his glass of champagne with a sneer. If only his mother had been here to suffer through this instead. But _SHE_ was currently in Azkaban, saying farewell to her husband one last time.

His jaw clenched at the thought that in less than twenty-four hours his father would be as good as executed. It was only through Potter's influence that Draco and his mother had been spared, but the scar-headed prat had made no effort to save Lucius. He had, in fact, stepped aside and allowed his red-headed whore to make sure that enough evidence was provided to make Lucius Malfoy one of the last three wizards to be condemned to the Dementor's Kiss before the punishment was scheduled to be abolished. It was fitting, he supposed, that his father would go out with such a privilege. Fitting, too, that he had not seen his father since the Final Battle when they had both been taken into Ministry custody and shoved into the bowels of Azkaban. There would be no chance to say goodbye to the man who had molded him; no chance to make amends for the countless failures; no chance to understand how he should carry on the family legacy. No chance for anything, really, but to continue on down the same path that had been laid out by the actions and deeds of his family for generations.

At least Potter had had the decency to persuade the Minister to let Narcissa say goodbye to her husband. A decency that had in no way extended to her son. Potter had been at the Ministry the day of his release, and he had made it clear that he thought Draco beyond redemption. He and his gang of blood-traitors and Mudbloods. They had looked right through him, and their indifference had been chilling.

It was a different world now. The three months that Draco had spent in Azkaban had seen dramatic changes. Almost the entire Ministry staff had been replaced, reorganized, and restructured. Even the Minister was new, having been sworn in last month after a special election that was anything but democratic.

Said Minister was currently winding his way towards Potter's favorite Mudblood. Draco looked on with a sneer as Arthur Weasley shook hands with Hermione Granger. They stood and chatted for several minutes before Weasley started to drift away. Granger, however, suddenly threw her arms around the man and hugged him tightly. Weasley looked shocked, and Draco shook his head at the display.

Weasley broke free eventually and moved off. Granger stood looking after him and her expression seemed to indicate tears. That was interesting. As boring as this whole event was – with the new order ignoring him and the old guard sending him filthy looks as though _HE_ were personally responsible for the Dark Lord's defeat – any chance for a spot of entertainment was worth capitalizing on.

Slowly he made his way across the ballroom towards her, snagging a fresh glass of champagne on the way. By the time he neared her she was in a new conversation, with Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood.

Draco looked over Lovegood and was relieved to see that she seemed more or less intact. He had wondered, after last year, how sane she would be; how much she would recover. He took in the way Longbottom's fingers were laced with her own and he seemed to be supporting her.

"…care of each other," Granger was saying as she hugged each of them in turn. Draco frowned at the finality in her tone. The ball had only started an hour ago – not to mention that she was bosom buddies with those two. No reason to be saying farewells as though she were about to embark on a long journey.

The thought gave him pause and he tried to think of Granger's behavior that evening – the hug she had trapped the Minister in, the few huddled, one on one conversations she had had with former Order members. _WAS_ she about to leave?

He searched the crowd and spotted Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Ginny Weasley together at a table some yards away. The three were deep in discussion and smiling… completely at ease with each other and not looking as though they were missing an integral part of their group. Bizarre, he decided, and turned back to Granger, now alone and looking even closer to tears than she had before.

"I see that Weasley finally developed a sense of taste," he said by way of introduction.

He watched as she stiffened at the mere sound of his voice before she slowly turned to face him fully.

"Malfoy. I hardly expected you to make an appearance tonight."

Draco shrugged and took a sip of his champagne. He smirked as she scowled at him.

"I've as much right to be here as you, Granger. After all, I was fully acquitted of my crimes. In fact… maybe I've more right than you. _YOU_ never stood trial, did you, for murder?"

"Murder?" She all but shrieked. "And whom did I murder?"

"Vince," Draco replied cooly.

She opened her mouth to argue but then snapped it shut, her teeth clicking together audibly.

"I am… sorry about him," she said at length. "He certainly didn't need to die," she added in a softer, pitying tone.

He sneered.

"Not like my father, you mean?"

"Why are you trying to pick a fight with me?" She demanded instead of rising to the bait. "I never gave testimony at his trial – the only testimony I ever gave was at _your_ trial, Malfoy. I don't want to start some horrible cycle of revenge. I just want to… move on."

"Move on? You just want to _MOVE ON_ when all the rest of us are busy burying the corpses of those you don't want to bother with? I guess I should be thankful you deigned to care about _ME_ at all."

Her eyes narrowed.

"I said I was sorry about Crabbe and I meant it. I don't want to fight with you. I don't want to be stuck here in this mass grave anymore. So leave me _ALONE_." With that last she started to leave but he closed the distance between them and grabbed her arm, preventing her escape.

"Let me go," she hissed at him.

"Why do you get to get away? Why are you free?"

She searched his eyes and something in her seemed to break.

"Malfoy, none of us is free. Just because we aren't in Azkaban doesn't mean we aren't in prison." She laughed mirthlessly. "And no one just gets away."

She covered his hand on her arm with her own, her fingers cool and slightly callused. She gently pried his hand away.

"I'm sorry. I wish…I hope… try to live a decent life, alright?" She turned to leave and this time he let her.

The entire encounter left him numb, and he stood there absently rubbing the tips of his fingers together, staring at her as she circulated through the guests.

He hardly noticed it when Theodore Nott stepped to his side.

"You bloody coward," Nott hissed.

Draco was snapped out of his thoughts by the poisonous voice. He turned to look at his former classmate.

"'Me?" Draco asked with a laugh, " I don't remember _YOU_ ever fighting for your life while you had a madman terrorizing your family and a legion of blood-traitors out to see you hung."

"You were always more concerned with saving your own skin than with the cause," Nott said. "Maybe if you'd had the guts to carry through with your orders, instead of failing time and time again… maybe then we'd be at a very different function." Nott paused. "But then, you seem to like fraternizing with the filth. I've seen you watching her, all night. You're nearly as disgusting as she is."

Draco arched an eyebrow at Nott.

"I have absolutely no idea why you insist on making yourself my enemy, and frankly, I don't care. I survived the war, Nott, and my family will be just as strong as it was before. I am willing to adapt, to save my own skin – as you say – and I will always be better than you." Draco reached out and straightened the lapels on Nott's dress robes, jerking harshly at the fabric. "Try to remember that before you go and make a fool of yourself again, hm?" Draco shoved him and walked away.

He hadn't made it very far when he was confronted with none other than scar-face and his lap dogs.

"Potter," he said simply.

"Ferret," Weasley spoke up from one side.

"So sorry about your father," the Weasley whore said from the other.

Draco clenched his fists to avoid lashing out at either of them.

He locked gazes with Potter, daring him to add his own insult.

"I never expected you to show your face here," Potter said at long last.

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Yes well, get over it." He started to move past them but Potter stepped forward and poked one long finger into his chest.

"Watch yourself, ferret. Maybe your dad was the only one to get what he deserves, but you'll prove just how rotten you are in no time. And I'm watching you, and waiting for you to do it. You belong in Azkaban and I can't wait to send you back there."

The mention of the prison sent a chill down Draco's spine, but he refused to let Potter get to him. He knew that his experiences in the prison would haunt his dreams for a long time to come, but he refused to allow anyone to suspect his time there had been anything other than a shoddy holiday retreat.

Draco was about to respond when there was a sudden breeze and a swirl of lilac robes.

"Harry, Ron, Ginny – I've been looking everywhere for you," Granger said in a light, playful tone. She looked sideways at Draco. "Oh, Malfoy, nice to, er, see you."

He rolled his eyes at her, disgusted and amused by her attempt at familiarity.

"Same," he drawled, thrilled by the murderous look Weasley shot him.

"Hermione, I don't know why you bother to pretend to be polite to him," the whore muttered. "He's no better than his father. Worse – he's a coward."

Granger practically threw herself between Draco and the three as he advanced.

"Not here," she snapped at no one in particular. " This is supposed to be a unifying event. How would it look if Harry and Malfoy just started brawling?"

"It'd look like justice," Weasley mused.

Draco glared at the red headed pillock, but was distracted by the curls that traced Granger's long neck, escaped from the messy bun her hair seemed to have been woven into. Messy but… it suited her, he thought idly.

"It would look like intolerance," Granger corrected in the tone that Draco had always hated – her lecture tone. Her _WHY ARE YOU SO STUPID THAT I HAVE TO EXPLAIN THIS TO YOU_ tone. Actually, he didn't mind it at all now that it was being directed at Weasley and not used in a tirade against him or about the injustice of pure-blood society as he had often heard it over the last seven years. He noticed Weasley's eyes start to glaze over and realized that she had used it a fair amount on him too. "He was tried for his crimes and he was acquitted. That's the end of it. You have got to start thinking about the future. You need to work together to build a better… society."

Draco frowned at her choice of pronouns. _YOU _need to work together. Just where the hell was _SHE_ going to be?

Potter scowled. "Hermione, I know you want to just make things better for everyone but – he's an evil git. He needs to go back to prison. Before he hurts someone else."

Granger crossed her arms.

"Harry Potter I thought that you were a better person than this. He deserves another chance."

"And I thought you were smarter than this," Potter shot back angrily. "He deserves a Kiss. Just like his foul father."

Granger anticipated Draco's lunge and backed up against him, turning to face him with pleading eyes.

"Fuck you, Potter. You're an ignorant, narrow-minded prick and one of these days someone is going to give you what _YOU_ deserve." He pushed away from Granger and turned, sweeping from the ballroom as quickly and dignified as he could. He felt the stares of everyone on him but he ignored it and raised his chin. To hell with them all.

* * *

Hermione turned to her friends, speechless and emotionally drained. It had been so long since anything had been right… so long since any of them had been _NICE_ to someone.

She sighed. It was too much to hope for that they would try and be decent towards Malfoy. It wasn't as though he had made much of an effort himself. Still…

"Harry, I wish you would make an effort."

"And I wish you would start thinking. Or did that bout of Cruciatus with his Aunt kill off your brain cells? Don't you remember how he stood by and did nothing to help you?"

Hermione drew herself up and glared at him.

"Don't you dare, Harry Potter. You weren't there either – you were locked up while I was tortured and you have _NO IDEA_ what happened." She spun on her heel and fled.

It wasn't until she was outside that she remembered her plan to say goodbye to them. But now… it wasn't worth it to go back in. She just didn't have the energy to deal with any of it anymore.

"You didn't have to follow me," a voice growled from her right.

Hermione had her wand out before her brain identified the voice as Malfoy's. She lowered the wand but kept it out.

"I didn't. I just… happened to make my own exit very quickly after you did."

"Where are you going anyway?" Malfoy asked as he stepped closer to her.

She noticed that his hair was in disarray. It looked as though he had been running furious fingers through it, and it fell over his forehead and into his eyes. He looked half-mad, half-broken.

"Home," she answered.

"I'm not as stupid as your friends. You're leaving, aren't you? For good."

Hermione was shocked that he had figured it out, but she found herself nodding.

"I thought you said no one could get away," she snapped bitterly.

She grimaced at her own words.

"Doesn't mean I can't try," she responded.

"Where?" He repeated.

"Australia," she answered after a moment's hesitation."

"Why?"

"My parents… I send them there."

Malfoy nodded, as if he had expected her response, and even… approved?

"And then?"

"Who knows. I'm not… I can't…I need to get away from all of this for a while."

He nodded again and seemed on the verge of saying something, but then he shrugged and turned away.

"Malfoy – " she called out before she could help herself. He stopped and turned around. "Be careful. Be… good, alright?"

He snorted a laugh at that and shook his head.

"And don't tell anyone, will you?"

"What? Like I'm going to walk up to Weasley and tell him where his girlfriend ran off to? Because we're such chums that I can if his heart is broken." His eyes narrowed. "Or are you worried I'm going to tell the reformed Death Eaters where they can score an easy kill? I can't believe you are so hypocritical! Wait, of course I can. You're just like all the rest of them, aren't you? You –"

"Stop it!" She practically shouted over him. "I really meant don't tell Ron or Harry. It was stupid, I'm sorry. Just… forget it."

He shook his head once and then his eyes widened slightly. His entire body seemed to still.

"I'm going with you," he announced suddenly.

* * *

TBC


End file.
